


Dire Omens

by Arithanas



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964)
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dire omens surrounded Morticia's first pregnancy, the Addamses couldn't be happier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dire Omens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [billtheradish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billtheradish/gifts).



> My gratitude to [MadameHardy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameHardy) for the most excellent beta work.

It was pure dark magic…

Her usually slender figure now showed a grotesque, monumental, hideous, Pantagruel-like belly as she peered to the distant gray clouds. The weather was so magnificent these last days, as if the clouds themselves rejoiced in the hideous ritual the Addamses had been engaged in for the last months. Morticia was bursting through her seams, filled to the brim with ghastly life. Getting Morticia with child was like spitting on the Mona Lisa, like castrating Pan's effigy, like painting sunlight into van Rijn's Night Watch, like putting Rubens's Graces on a diet. It was a heinous crime, a brutal act of vandalism, a falsely fulsome compliment paid to some fat lady… Gomez could not deny he loved every minute of his participation in it.

Gomez felt like an unabashed gigolo, a mendacious politician, a filthy derelict asleep on a public park bench… That glorious feeling was paternity. He couldn't wait for the moment to come when embark on the whole degrading process again.

"Gomez," Morticia called with horrid disdain, extending her hand as if Gomez were less than a human being.

She had been so affectionate lately.

"My love…" Gomez came to her and kissed that cruel hand. "Are you in poor health? Nauseating? Swollen?"

"All of that and more; I couldn't imagine less pleasure in this horrid agony," she smiled, allowing him to kiss her shoulder, "I can't wait for the rippling pain…"

"The gushing blood…"

"The extreme agony that no rack would dare provide," Morticia sighed in complete delight. "I refuse to believe this happiness could be real."

"Oh, but it is, my dear," Gomez said, nuzzling the long, sleek streaks of hair. Hair as soft and sleek as the satin of a coffin… he could not imagine a day when he would tire of caressing it. "A new monster, so atrocious, so vile, will roam the earth, born to terrorize the hearts of the ignoble populace, an atrocity to be loathed and despised by even the lowest of the riff-raff…"

"And we two are responsible, the bringers-forth of this new obscenity."

"Only we, Morticia, only we are to blame."

"Oh, please, do tell me they'll try to destroy our happiness, they'll surround its gloomy crib and attempt to pry our joy from our grasping, cold, decaying hands."

"The whole world will burn in a jealous blaze."

Morticia sighed, averted her eyes, a glorious flash of lightning highlighting the death-paleness of her mausoleum-statue face.

"We are so blessed…" murmured Morticia, the sibilants hissing from her painted mouth, like serpents on a basket.

"Unworthy of this gift, I know..."

"But now we must find the nesting-place least inadequate to its dark glory. A nice dungeon perhaps, with lots of cold drafts and no daylight, and a scabby black cat, to rob its breath properly…"

"Name it, Morticia! Whatever your heart desires, I'll destroy, and I’ll rip! God help me; I'll smear the walls with in peeling, dark lead paint for you!"

"I wish to surround the crib with chains and manacles, like my own crib. And ancient, tattered, cobwebby French mourning lace..."

"Oh, yes, darling, I'll rob the lace from some virgin's grave."

"Hmm..." Morticia murmured, full of pleasure. "Oh, Gomez! You always spoil me so."

"I can’t help it: you are the darkest moment of my day, the coldest breeze of my endless night… "

Morticia sighed in sweet melancholy. Gomez couldn't help himself; he pressed his lips to that beautiful dark Madonna and desecrated her with a long, tender kiss.

The storm had come to full force now: showering the decrepit house with cold, heavy rain drops, as if the heavens were weeping. The barely-hinged window shutters hammered a cacophonous symphony for that couple of dark turtledoves.


End file.
